4-0
by Lost In Rotation
Summary: A one-shot inspired by season two of Fuller House. To be safe, expect spoilers through the end of season two.


"Oh Mylanta." The roar of the propellers swallows her words before they reach the man sitting next to her.

"Oh my hand," he counters. Her fingers press hard on his knuckles and joints, but he doesn't dare to extract his hand. It's his fault they are up here, far from the safety of the ground in the cramped King Air. He almost regrets not taking her to the indoor facility, but for her fortieth birthday he wanted the experience to be unforgettable. He doubts he'll ever forget the pain in his hand. His bones grind together as she squeezes. His brain recalls textbook anatomy diagrams while he tries not to grimace.

She leans into his side, her bony shoulder colliding with his. The soft waves of her hair brush against his cheek as she shouts in his ear, "We are really high up." Her grip tightens.

He can't help but smile, his skin creasing as his lips pull up. Shifting in his seat, he tilts his head towards her. "I know!" Where she speaks with heightened anxiety and fear, he looks forward with excitement.

The air rushes around them as the small prop plane continues to climb in altitude. She shivers as the low seventies on the ground morphs into colder temperatures as the plane ascends. Goosebumps prickle her skin under the slight protection of her wicking exercise jacket. "Are you sure the plane should be shaking this much?" Her nose bumps against his cheek as she tries to yell towards his ear. The metal fuselage around her groans to emphasize her point.

He shouts his response into her hair, "My leg is fine!"

"What?"

"What?"

Neither one of them can hear or understand as the wind presses against the cage containing them. She shakes her head in defeat, her hair bouncing around her, as she grips the armrest with her free hand. "I am going to die," she mumbles under her breath. "Happy birthday to me."

He reaches across his body to place his left hand on her knee. As he gives it a reassuring squeeze, he kisses her temple. His lips feel cold against her skin. When they boarded the plane, she'd begged for the window seat thinking the presence of the airframe would help calm her nerves. Instead, her stomach plummets to her feet when she catches a glimpse out the window. Under small patches of white puffy clouds, the city quickly disappears below. Her stomach flips over on itself as she turns back to face him, away from the window.

The wait is the quickest fifteen minutes of her life. Her brain still clamors to mentally prepare her as the instructor appears beside Matt, two thumbs pointing to the skies above. "Ready?" His booming voice carries over the cacophony enveloping them.

She balances Matt's nodding with a fierce shaking of her head.

The instructor claps Matt on the shoulder, ushering him up out of the seat. Hunching over, Matt moves to stand. His arm extends straight, then catches when she refuses to budge from her seat.

He tugs on her hand still fused with his. Instead of standing, she releases her grip. "You go ahead," she yells, immediately grabbing the second armrest. "I'm good right here." Her fresh crimson red manicure from the prior day's trip to the salon with Kimmy digs into the flimsy armrest.

"D.J.!"

"I'll meet you on the ground."

He only hears half of what she says and comprehends even less. Shaking his head, he bends over towards her and catches her elbow.

"Oh no," she protests as he works to guide her from the tight confines of the seat. She uses the same voice as when she caught Max trying to give Cosmo a bath in the kitchen the week before. The instructor grows impatient behind him as the plane levels flat at cruising altitude.

"Time to jump!" The words pierce Matt's eardrum. He gives her arm a forceful nudge, dislocating her from her seat. She scrambles sit back down, but he pulls her into the center of the plane.

The instructor leads them to the door on the side of the plane. Matt wraps his arm around D.J.'s waist, half guiding and half dragging her alongside him. The instructor gives their harnesses a final check, tugging and testing all the straps for secureness. Then he runs through the process a final time, each sentence short and to the point.

White noise clouds D.J.'s brain. She cannot focus on anything the man says. In fact, she has a hard time considering him a man. He's in his late twenties at the oldest. She wonders if he's even qualified to give instructions. Will he even remember to pull the parachute? Or will he be too busy composing a text in his mind to send to the girl he met at the club last night as soon as they hit the ground?

She could kill Matt. He wanted to do a nice thing, and she appreciates the effort. But skydiving. Maybe she ought to kill Stephanie and Kimmy instead if the jump doesn't kill her first. They had to dig out her dream board for her last birthday, leading to this disaster. She remembers clearly what she told them then. It is the quintessential activity that combines some of her greatest phobias – heights, planes, and strange men strapped to her back.

Her jelly legs flirt with the idea of collapsing beneath her, but she's come so far. The plane hasn't darted to the ground ablaze in a sea of flames. Yet. Faced with all the scenarios her mind pictures for how everything could go wrong before landing, jumping out of the plane doesn't seem like the worst idea anymore. This decision, however, still leaves her faced with strapping herself to the tandem jumper who doesn't look old enough to drive a car. She'd trust Jackson more.

"Relax." This time, she catches the word as Matt studies her face. His hands reach toward her face, pushing her hair back behind her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He collects her hair in a messy ponytail behind her, binding it with an elastic band he must have snagged from Stephanie before leaving the house. Then he moves to stand behind her. The harness shifts and rustles as he tinkers with it.

"What in the world are you doing?" She tries to turn around to see, but the instructor snaps her to attention.

"You want to make sure the two of you are harnessed in tight. Don't want to get separated in flight. Your boyfriend has the parachute." His breath smells of stale onions and a day old burrito. Her noise twitches to mask her displeasure. While not to the caliber of Kimmy's feet, it's on par with her boys' dirty laundry baskets at the end of the week.

His words take a moment to register. She tries to twist in the harness again. Unable to move, she cranes her head back to stare up at Matt's chin. "You're jumping with me?"

"Of course." He gives her side a playful slap as he clips on the last joint in their harnesses. The instructor busies himself with rechecking all the connections.

"Are you sure that's safe? Do you even know what you're doing?" Her imagination kicks back into high gear. She pictures the pair of them, one splattered pile of gooey guts on the ground. She wonders if her boys will miss her and how long Kimmy will wait before moving into her bedroom.

"I've done this a few times before."

Oh. Right. Crystal. The ex-girlfriend obsessed with fitness and sports. D.J. chucks the thought from her mind. Instead, she remembers the time Uncle Jesse and Becky went bungee jumping for a segment Becky was filming on Wake Up, San Francisco. They survived. It was even fun, both of them confessed after the fact.

She crossed New Kids off the Block last year. She even survived the humiliation of her actions while under the influence of the pain killers from the dentist, though she made sure to delete all evidence of the encounter from Stephanie's phone. She could survive skydiving, especially without the prepubescent weighing her down.

"Ready?" The instructor maneuvers them to stand directly in front of the door as he pushes it open.

No, she thinks as a gust of wind smacks her face. Then yes. Matt makes the decision for her. He leans into her back, tipping their balance forward. They drop out of the plane, falling 11,000 feet above the ground. All thoughts push from her mind. She screams. Matt holds her tight as the air rushes around them. They fly.


End file.
